I had a sinking feeling from the very beginning that we were in over our heads. The numerous meetings, events, galas, and auctions that demanded hefty “donations” and formal attire were all red flags. My work inbox quickly filled with calendar invites for committees I hadn’t signed up for, added due to a requirement that new “members” volunteer a specific number of hours each school year. These obligations always fell during my work hours, forcing me to either use PTO or make up the time late into the night. This was the price we paid to become part of our new school community, on top of the exorbitant tuition.
We willingly made this choice. I never imagined my child would attend a private school, but our oldest needed the specialized programs this institution provided, and we were ready to invest. After struggling at our local school and attempting an IEP, we sought a better fit. It was clear he needed more support, both academically and emotionally.
A friend, while we were having coffee, mentioned a school nearby that offered tailored programs for kids with ODD, Dyslexia, and similar challenges. They didn’t provide accommodations like public schools, but they did have smaller class sizes, personalized tutoring, and curricula designed to meet individual needs. It sounded ideal.
In many respects, it was—but the financial strain was immense, and we had to juggle our kids between two schools. My salary seemed to vanish, consumed by tuition and related expenses. Still, we decided to give it a year, hoping it would give our son the tools he needed to thrive.
The demands on our time caught us off guard. Outside of required hours, many parents seemed to practically live at the school. They appeared very supportive of the staff, but it was evident that the more time you spent there, the more social capital you gained. I tried my best to keep up, but managing my other school-aged children along with my full-time job left little time for socializing in the hallways.
Initially, my oldest seemed to flourish, benefiting from bi-weekly one-on-one tutoring sessions. These sessions built upon each other, and we could coordinate with the tutor on what to work on between visits. It felt intense, but he appeared to be thriving. His teacher described him as a “joy” to have in class, and he seemed to be making friends and enjoying recess. My heart swelled with pride.
However, small issues began to crop up. He struggled to connect with another student who occasionally teased him during recess, hiding his pencil case or making disruptive noises. The teacher acknowledged this and assured me they would provide additional support, including counseling interventions. I felt reassured that my son was not seen as the aggressor but rather as someone needing help advocating for himself.
But then the situation shifted when the other child’s parents intervened. Let’s call their son Alex. Alex had been at the school since pre-K, and his family was well-off, with multiple siblings also attending. They felt their son was being treated unfairly and requested a meeting with the teacher, my husband, and me, with the Head of School present.
In this meeting, the teacher laid out the timeline of events and the steps taken so far. However, Alex’s father reacted angrily, slamming his chair and exclaiming, “I cannot believe this!” His mother chimed in about her constant presence at the school and how she had never witnessed any problematic behavior from her son. The atmosphere shifted dramatically; we had approached the meeting with a desire for resolution, yet their aggression turned it into something confrontational.
The Head of School seemed distant afterward, promising to follow up with me. A week later, she called to say that my son’s learning needs weren’t being met and that he would be better off elsewhere. I was blindsided. My son was thriving, his teacher loved him, and he had no behavioral issues. Yet, he was being asked to leave.
I was both heartbroken and furious. I asked if the other parents had threatened to withdraw their children if my son remained. The Head of School dodged the question, which only fueled my suspicions about favoritism. My son was allowed to finish the week, but I didn’t feel comfortable sending him back. I let him go the next day to say goodbye, and I still feel angry about the injustice of it all. Even his teacher was emotional when he left, offering to assist him in transitioning to a new school, a gesture that meant a lot. She has since left that school, still keeping in touch with us.
My son’s self-esteem took a significant hit, though he has made progress since then. He still struggles to understand the situation, as do I. We voiced our concerns through letters and calls, even reaching out to board members. Many suggested legal action, but we didn’t have the time or resources for that, and ultimately, it would not change our son’s need for a new school.
My husband and I can’t shake the feeling that if we had more resources, we wouldn’t have faced this situation. It was painful to see someone in a position of authority prioritize a wealthy parent over a child who was genuinely thriving. This experience has left a bitter taste in my mouth and given me a newfound appreciation for public school educators. While the public school system has its flaws, I respect the dedication of those who work within it more than ever before. This has been a valuable lesson for me.
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Summary:
This piece reflects an anonymous parent’s experience with a private school that ultimately let their son down. Despite initial success, the family faced challenges when other parents intervened, leading to their son being asked to leave. The author expresses frustration over the inequities that arose from financial disparities and the prioritization of wealth over student needs. The story serves as a cautionary tale about private education, emphasizing the importance of valuing all students, regardless of their family’s financial situation.
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